


A Taste of Winter

by TheGiantSquid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Drama, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-06
Updated: 2005-12-06
Packaged: 2018-10-26 07:23:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10782228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGiantSquid/pseuds/TheGiantSquid
Summary: How does one love? Unconditionally...with their every being...purely? In a small country in a far-away village, two friends rediscover their relationship and learn what love can mean to them.My response to the Seasons and Senses Challenge on livejournal.





	A Taste of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes:

This was written for hecatesknicker's "Seasons and Senses Challenge" on livejournal. My prompt was Ron/Hermione; winter; fire; hot chocolate.

Also, there's a backstory to this but it's not explained and it's supposed to be ambiguous... 

* * *

A Taste of Winter   


The wind was howling, branches thrashing violently against the window. The snow was coming in thick flurries, the dark clouds blocking all view of the half moon in the sky. Inside the small room, two young men lay in bed. One was sleeping soundly, an unusual but most welcome occurrence, his messy black hair peeking out from behind a layer of blankets and a pair of round glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose as if he’d fallen asleep while wearing them. The other boy, however, his hair a stark contrast not only to the slumbering boy’s but also to the room itself (which was dark and somewhat sinister), was sitting on his bed, his long, gangly legs pulled up to his chest and his blue eyes nearly burning a hole through the bedroom door.

With a sigh of great suffering, the young man, who went by the name of Ron—or Ronniekins if his mother was involved, or worse yet, _Ronald_ , if a certain someone was angry with him—stretched out his legs and slowly stood up. He was never going to get any sleep, not after the events of the day. Too wound up for rest, too wound up to do any real work, Ron pulled on his slippers and bathrobe and snuck quietly to the other side of the room. If he was up, he might as well grab a bite to eat, he reckoned, and his stomach growled in agreement. He decided that a nice cup of hot chocolate would hit the spot perfectly, instead, since it was rather late for eating. Maybe he would even add a little bit of Dreamless Sleep Potion to the drink, too.

Ron turned the doorknob slowly and opened the door, the hinges shrieking in protest. He winced and snuck a look at his friend, Harry, who was thankfully still snoring. He then slipped out of the room and crept down the short hallway, making sure not to wake Hermione, his other best friend, whose bedroom was closest to the kitchen. Well. To be perfectly honest, Ron wasn’t quite sure if she was _just_ his friend, but...it didn’t matter anyway. Shaking his head, Ron came to the end of the corridor and stopped dead.

Hermione was sitting on the settee in the living room, staring absently into the dying fire the trio had kept going all day and night while they were in Bulgaria. Her hair was wild and messy from sleep, highlighted by the fire, her face glowing in the firelight. Her posture was mimicking what Ron’s had been earlier: her knees were tucked under her chin and her pale arms wrapped snugly around them.

Ron stayed still and quiet for while, simply enjoying the rare occurrence of being able to watch Hermione while she was unawares. He felt a familiar tightness in his chest and took a shuddering breath to control his emotions. Hermione must have heard him, though, because Ron saw her shoulders stiffen.

She turned her head partway; seeing him out of the corner of her eye, she said, “What is it, Ronald?” 

He winced again, her curt tone cutting through him. The rational part of his brain knew she had a reason to be angry with him, but the other part—the unfortunately much bigger part—felt a flare of irritation surge through him, and his ire rose dangerously. Forgetting momentarily about his trip for hot chocolate, Ron strolled into the room and sat at the other end of the couch, purposely keeping his eyes off of Hermione. It was very difficult to do.

Ron crossed his arms over his broadening chest and said, “I just thought I’d come out here and enjoy the fire. S’wicked cold in our room.”

Hermione snorted softly but did not respond. Instead, she sighed and curled up further into herself. Ron pretended to watch the fire flicker while watching Hermione surreptitiously from beneath his fringe.

“Are you cold?” he blurted out when he saw her shiver for the third time. The flames were growing dimmer and Ron figured the fire spell was due for recasting soon.

Hermione remained quiet for several moments, and Ron was about to repeat the question when she whispered, “I’m tired.”

Ron blinked and licked his lips. “D’you want some Dreamless Sleep? I know we have one more phial left—”

“I’m not that kind of tired, Ron,” she replied, her voice strained but still matter-of-fact, a trait Ron loved very much about her.

“I don’t understand,” he said truthfully.

Hermione nodded slightly, then turned her head and rested her cheek on her knees; she was now staring at him with dark brown eyes that caused a shudder to course down Ron’s spine. He blamed it on the cold. He knew he was lying to himself.

“I can’t keep doing this, Ron,” she said. Her eyes began to glisten and Ron’s heart skipped a beat. “I can’t…I just can’t, don’t you get it?” Hermione’s voice grew louder with each word and she was now nearly stretched out on the couch as she leaned closer to Ron.

“It was never—Viktor, he—” Hermione broke off and took a gasping breath as tears pooled in her eyes.

Ron felt stricken and had no clue what to do or say. He should have felt angry that Hermione was bringing up _Viktor_ again, but for some reason he just couldn’t muster up the energy.

Hermione sighed and turned her head away from him, her hair falling in messy ringlets across her shoulders. She sat back on the couch and discreetly wiped away her tears. They sat in a deafening silence for what seemed like an eternity. Hermione leaned forward suddenly, grabbed her wand from the table, and flicked her wrist at the hearth, lighting another roaring fire. The air was now filled with the sounds of crackling wood and the faint smell of smoke and pine.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” 

Ron didn’t even realize it was he who spoke for a full minute. Hermione gave him an odd look before nodding and turning back to the fire. Ron puffed out a breath and licked his lips. Getting up from the settee, he ambled into the small kitchenette, pulled out two mugs, and set about making genuine hot chocolate. A few minutes later, he walked back into the living room and carefully handed a steaming mug to Hermione. She accepted it with a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes and avoided Ron’s gaze as he sat back down.

He blew across the top of the mug and inhaled the sweet scent of melted chocolate and cinnamon. He took a tentative sip of the hot cocoa; the liquid burned sharply across his tongue and seared down his throat, warming Ron from the inside. He bit his lip in pain and grimaced.

“S’pose it’s a little hot, huh?” he said with a grin, peeking at Hermione from over the rim of his mug. Hermione pursed her lips but a moment later, she broke out in a small but true smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners as her shoulders began to shake in silently laughter.

“You were always rubbish as Heating Charms,” she said through her mirth.

“Hey now!” Ron exclaimed in mock anger. “I happen to be just fine at Heating Charms. It’s the mug’s fault the drink’s too hot.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but her smile grew wider, and Ron felt his heart beat faster. God, how he loved that smile.

“Here,” said Hermione, grabbing her wand and performing a light Cooling Charm on their mugs. Ron dutifully ignored her smirk and took another tentative sip. It was the perfect temperature, of course.

“Brilliant,” he said with a broad smile, and was pleased when Hermione grinned back before she took another sip of the hot chocolate. Ron watched in pure fascination as Hermione’s tongue darted out from between two pink lips and licked the corner of her mouth. Ron wetted his own lips and his mouth suddenly went dry. He took a gulp of the hot chocolate and swallowed quickly, not allowing himself to taste the sweet concoction on his slightly burned tongue.

They sat in an amiable silence for a while watching the fire cackle and gut before Hermione spoke suddenly.

“I can’t believe we’ve been looking for almost a year, now.”

Ron started somewhat, caught off guard by the sound of Hermione’s voice. “What?”

“We’re never going to find them all, are we?” she continued, oblivious to Ron’s question, though he already knew what she was talking about.

“We’ll find them,” he said confidently, though part of him didn’t believe it either. They had been searching for so long now, going from one end of the earth to the other, and thus far they’d only found one Horcrux, and that hadn’t been much of a find, anyway, all things considered. _Bloody locket_ , Ron thought viciously. He was brought roaring back to reality when Hermione spoke again.

“Harry—he—he doesn’t _look_ good,” she said in a cracking voice, setting her nearly empty mug harshly on the rickety coffee table. “I’m worried about him,” she added in a much quieter voice.

That did it for Ron. He couldn’t stand to hear his Hermione sound so desolate and helpless. That wasn’t who she was. She was _strong_ and beautiful and brilliant and the next thing Ron knew, he was placing his mug on the table next to Hermione’s and scooting closer to her on the couch. She looked up in surprise and her eyes grew wide when Ron wrapped his long arm around her shoulders and pulled her flush against his chest.

“Ron—what?” Hermione stammered, but did not fight him as he tightened his arms around her smaller frame.

“Hermione,” he said gruffly, struggling to control his emotions now that she was so close that he could count the freckles on her face. (Fourteen, but Ron had known that for a while anyway.)

As if it suddenly became clear, Hermione gasped and her face crumbled as she broke down in sobs. Ron continued to hold her tightly as she cried into his chest, stroking her hair and murmuring nonsensical yet soothing words into her ear. Ron’s own chest tightened as Hermione clung to him, and his heart began to pound. He hoped that she would not notice.

Eventually, Hermione’s tears turned into hiccups and then quiet sniffles, and Ron was a little amused when Hermione pulled away and he found that his shirt was damp and Hermione’s face was flushed and puffy. He couldn’t help himself. He’d never seen her so unruffled before. And so Ron laughed.

It was a deep, rich laugh, and Hermione looked up at Ron in shock and a little anger. “What is it?” she demanded hotly, struggling to pull away from Ron. He would have none of that, however, and held tightly onto her. Then, looking her straight in the eye, he said, “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Hermione froze and sucked in a breath. She could not pull her eyes away from Ron’s piercing blue gaze. His smile became softer as his chuckles died down, but the laughter never truly left his eyes. Feeling absurdly brave (he was prepared to blame the chocolate), Ron reached up with his hand and cupped Hermione’s cheek. Her eyes widened comically and Ron couldn’t help but grin.

“There you are,” he said softly.

“What?” Hermione whispered, licking her lips subconsciously. _He needs to shave_ , she thought dizzily.

“I’ve been wondering where you’ve been, you know,” Ron murmured, stroking his thumb across the apple of her cheek.

“What…?” she said, recovering some ground. “What are you on about?”

“You’ve been missing for a while,” Ron whispered, leaning so close that Hermione could feel his breath puffing against her face. It smelled faintly of chocolate and mint toothpaste. “Hermione Granger, brave, cunning, smartest witch of her age…Beautiful,” Ron continued, marveling at Hermione’s ensuing blush, “kind, selfless… _you._ I know it’s you now because only you could smile like that…only you could make my heart pound and my palms sweat and my ears burn even after all these years…Only you, Hermione.”

“Ron…?”

“Shut up, Hermione,” he mumbled, and then he kissed her.

Hermione whimpered, and Ron pressed his lips harder against her own, running his tongue along the seam of her mouth. Hermione gasped and Ron took the opportunity to slip his tongue past her lips. Stroking her tongue with his own, Ron groaned when he tasted cocoa and cinnamon and a hint of toothpaste, and he just couldn’t stop kissing her. His senses were overwhelming him, making it very difficult to breathe. He pulled away with a gasp and took a shuddering breath.

Hermione’s eyes were closed and her lips were red and swollen from kissing. Ron felt another groan rise in his chest and couldn’t quite prevent it from tumbling past his lips. Hermione’s eyes fluttered open and locked onto Ron’s. She smiled brilliantly.

“Why am I not surprised that you taste like chocolate?” she teased. Ron grinned and felt his ears burn. He ran a hand reverently through Hermione’s wild hair and cupped the back of her head.

Leaning in, he said in a gruff voice, “Why am I not surprised that you taste like winter?” and kissed her again.

Outside, the wind continued to howl, the moon finally peaked out from behind the clouds, and the world carried on. But in a small village in a far-away country, two people found each other for the first time, neither really realizing what had been missing…

Fin


End file.
